


KITTEN  KISS

by thoughtsdemise



Category: The Transformers (IDW Generation One)
Genre: Animal Parts on Mechs, Comfort, FWP – fluff without plot, Gen, kitty pets, kittyformers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-05
Updated: 2016-08-05
Packaged: 2018-07-29 14:01:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 854
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7687351
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thoughtsdemise/pseuds/thoughtsdemise
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Ratch-cat goes to comfort Drift.</p>
            </blockquote>





	KITTEN  KISS

 

Drift leans forward and scrubs at his face.  He vents a deep sigh before shuttering his optics.  His digits trace down his face.  They stop over his spark as he tries again to fall into a meditative stance.  Doubts and worries about his current direction begin to fill his processor.  He fights the pull of them before slamming a fist against his bench.  He leans back to stare up at the passing stars.   _ Another break. _  He becomes lost in the stars.  So focused on the stars speeding by, Drift jumps when there is a light touch on his thigh.

The warrior stares at the currently cat-sized CMO.  The tiny red ears and tail flick as large optics stare right into Drift’s.  The big mech cycles his vocalizer.  A warmth spread across his facial plates at the sly eyed smile Ratchet was gracing him with.  The knowing flick of the slender tail wasn’t helping things either.  And right about now, Drift was wishing for the bigger medic who couldn’t sneak up on battle hardened warriors and scare them out of their plating.  Something the tiny medic was currently enjoying too much for his own good in Drift’s honest opinion.  Too bad Rodimus got such a kick out of watching his warriors jump at the light touch of the cat-medic that his only opinion on the situation was to remind others that Ratchet shouldn't to be stepped on.

Drift sighs and moves over to one side of the bench.  He makes no attempt to pick up Ratchet.  The scratches on his upper arms was a friendly reminder that the CMO had claws, and he wasn’t afraid to use them  if he felt his personal space was being invaded.  Drift rubs absently at the faded marks and peeks at Ratchet out of the corner of his optic.  Despite the stern way the CMO carried himself or the way he puffed out his armor and tail, the kittyformer was adorable.  It was very hard for Drift not to reach over even now and pull Ratchet in his lap to stroke.

Ratchet’s ears flick as he considers the empty seat next to Drift.  He sinks his claws into the cushion and climbs up to the seat.  He holds on and looks about, optics narrowing at Drift when he notices the shine of a blue gaze directed at him.  He chuffs and arranges himself on the seat.  Red digits begin the task of carefully smoothing over his plating to fix any that had gotten out of alignment.  Once the kittyformer is satisfied with his appearance he turns to face the warrior sitting next to him.  He sits on his peds with his hands held politely in his lap and ear perked forward while his tail lays calmly about his knees.

Drift shakes his helm and tries to ignore the sudden companion at his side.  He straightens his spinal strut and places his hands in his lap.  He evens out his vents.  He was determined to reach a peaceful state today even if he overheated his processors to do so.  He looks sharply to his side when a soft tink of a metal paw interrupts the quiet.  Ratchet had moved closer to him.  He growls at the tiny CMO and neatly ignores how large Ratchet’s optics begin to shine at the attention he is given.

Minutes pass by in silence and calm until Drift feels the light tough again with a soft rub against his elbow.  He remains steadfast and his optics shuttered as the touch and rub become more insistent.  The weight settling in his lap almost breaks his resolve, but the warrior remains strong.  He would be slagged by Unicron and Primus both before he let Ratchet have his way.  He would not—

“Ah wha-“

It was the tiny pricks of kitty claws wrapped about his upper chest plate that had Drift opening his optics to stare straight into Ratchet’s.  His mouth sags at the proximity of the kittyformer as he watches the little nose twitch and work.  He stills completely when Ratchet leans forward to touch their nose together lightly and briefly before drawing back to scan the warrior’s shocked features.  Ratchet puffs air.  He leans forward once more to peck a quick kiss on Drift’s nose before tiny red peds can no longer support him on Drift’s smooth chest.

The warrior’s arm comes up to cradle the kitty CMO right where he was.  Ratchet wiggles about on Drift’s arm, looking down at it.  He nods once before cuddling into Drift’s chest above the bounding spark.  The medic makes himself comfortable and nuzzles his helm against the white plating.  Once he is comfortable, he thrums his tiny engine in a soft contented purr and starts to doze in Drift’s arms. 

Drift freezes before relaxing, giving in to the purr and the small weight against his spark.  He brings his other hand up to stroke a red helm that pushes back into the ghosting touches.  Drift smiles and shakes his helm.  He settles back and decides to take a cat nap with the purring machine curled on his chest.


End file.
